


Chamomile

by sinning_cupcake



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Animal Death, Canon Divergence, Character Death, Depression, Drunk Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mental Instability, Murder, OCD, Romance, Sick Character, Tears, Toxic Relationship, Unrequited Love, mostly my own, mostly shameless things for the sake of realism, unstable family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-08-20 13:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20228473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinning_cupcake/pseuds/sinning_cupcake
Summary: There are a lot of loose ends to round up.Yet one of them has chosen to round up itself by mere accident.Eliah Koremile has lost her home to the tragic events in Blackwater.  Unbeknownst, those precise events have led her to curiously follow two gun-shooting criminals back to their camp. A silly woman with silly dreams hasn't even realized what kind of nightmare she has invited herself into.





	1. Ain't Peaches You Come For

**Author's Note:**

> After finishing red dead redemption 2, I simply could not let the story go. I shall replay it many times in my head with many "what ifs" like this one I am choosing to share with you.

**Chapter i **

_Ain't Peaches You Come For_

Another morning. The dawn takes its time as it crawls over the edge of the world, slowly grazing the still greens and petals of flowers that soaked in rain overnight. A young deer raises its head, dark eyes reflecting the soft yellows of the waking sun that shies away into a thin veil of clouds, barely hiding the perfect curve of light. Rapidly, the deer jumps from one side to another, the small hooves clicking against the slick rocks that threaten with their slippery surface. Perhaps the young herbivore is performing a dance, trying to impress a curious doe that is watching it from somewhere within the shadows of the woods that surround a small area by the pond. Time is frozen at this moment as the buck flies around the water, splashing himself with chilly crystals and disturbing the fish deep within the transparent mirror. He watches as the sun finally embraces the tops of the everlasting greens, welcoming the songs of birds that fill the air. There are at least twenty of them, watching the inexpensive show that the deer has decided to put on. They assist him, synchronizing their songs to create a perfect symphony so that the deer does not feel embarrassed and cease the performance. 

He speeds up as the song is getting louder, the trees rustling in a sudden rush of wind that increases his confidence. He jumps higher, barely grazing the ground underneath as if flying over the water. There is nothing that he wishes to care about but the tender moment of a miracle. He escaped the wolves just a few weeks ago, having to abandon his family to save them from a certain massacre. He ran for days without a pause, exhausted himself as he had to hide in the bushes and sneak passed the deep black caves. Now, he had a full right to celebrate the beginning of a new life. Who knows, maybe he could find a match here and bring her back to his family, show just how worthy he is of becoming the next leader of their small community in the woods. With that, the deer sings along with birds, his ears consuming every sound and eyes blinded by the warming sun that seems to celebrate along. A moment more precious than anything in his life, no matter how fragile it might be. Another sweep under his feet and the deer flies over a bush, the orange flowers of which tickle his white belly. His neck extended, attempting to capture the light in hopes of growing wings and joining the birds in the trees. They are the freedom he always seeks even when running through the empty meadows at night as heaven seems calmer to him that the earth. 

An arrow pierces the air like a crash in utter silence. The sharp tip piercing the thin layer of a delicate chest, ripping the skin and the muscle underneath. Within seconds, a beating heart explodes, blood running to escape a newly made opening and soon finding its way to the surface. The deer’s eyes froze, staring at the sun as his body crashes to the ground, losing its former lightness. His small mouth opens, a streak of blood running from the corner of his tiny lip and the angled nostril that no longer flutters from breathing. The deer twitches a few times, his mind confused as to what has caused such an interruption. The songs suddenly fade, a few shadows appear in the sky, blocking the sun as wings spread to flee the murder scene. Soon, the deer becomes still, the image of a ghostly doe and his family fading into the distance where his father’s great antlers capture the sun in the center. Then darkness follows. 

“Gotcha!” A voice emerges from within the trees and soon a silhouette appears by the pond. A hand rests calmly on a lowered bow that reflects the playful light. A woman smiles, watching the prize for her patience before approaching it. “Quite the hustler you are, boy.” She lowers down, a dagger drawn from her left side slices through the bloodied fur after the arrow swiftly extracts from the flesh. The kill is clean and instant, no torture was inflicted on the deer, but if only she knew what dreams have caused him to jump higher than the trees. Soon, the deer's hide rests on the rear of the horse as if was cut to be a perfect cover. One of the saddle’s satchels is filled with meat that is wrapped in thin silky linen. 

“ And that’s for later.” The lady smiles, squatting before the pond and soaking her dagger. The thin blood detaches from the sharp blade and floats away into an unknown direction. The fish curiously peek from their hideouts but seeing that it is nothing on their menu, quickly lose interest and vanish. The woman rises, sheathing her weapon after drying it on the side of her sleeve with few long strokes. 

“Are ya done yet, Missy?” A rough voice comes from the same direction the woman has entered. She turns her head, brown eyes rolling in expectancy of an irritating speech. Soon, a man in a maroon duster coat approaches, one hand holding a revolver and the other promptly shoved in his pocket, as if hiding something of importance. The woman watches, a smirk playing on her eyes as she knows the man’s every habit. He walks like a wounded dog, limping slightly onto his right side, his facial expression forever stuck in dissatisfaction. They both know he is righteously healthy, but something tells him to always play a certain role even when they are alone. 

“August, nice to see you’re portraying the deer.” The woman laughs, copying the man’s actions by limping closer to him. He is visibly disturbed by her actions and hurries to straighten up, dropping the act altogether. His pale face lightens up in embarrassment that he tries to hide by stepping into a spot of sun rays. 

“Eliah, you isn’t funny.” The man revealed as August growls, the lit green irises staring to the side in shame. “I ain’t no deer. I sure as hell ain’t dead either.” 

“Not yet.” Eliah’s voice dropped to a husky whisper as she takes a menacing stance of a cougar ready to attack its prey. August rolls his eyes as the woman is unable to hold the act for much longer and nearly tumbles off the slick rock she was occupying. Her laughter deafens the few birds that are left within the trees, remaining strong and curious after witnessing a massacre. “I-I...ha-ha! I was only joking big brother.” 

“Joke’s over, I should've shot ya like the deer.” August folds his arms and nods toward the blond mare that stands expectantly by a tree, watching as the two bicker by the pond. “Ain’t you goin’ somewhere, peach-bomber?” 

“Hey! I told you not to call me that!” Eliah snaps, her thin brown brows pushing together over the bridge of her nose. “It happened once and it wasn’t my damn fault!” 

“Tell that to our pa, dummy, and seven trees that were scorched by your Dynomite prank.” August chuckles, watching Eliah visibly boil inside from the shameful payback. He got her good, he knew that, but he was also aware that he should leave it at that and push it no longer. Eliah had a short fuse in her eternal dynamite, it was best to change the subject. “So, ya gonna make somethin’ of that pretty boy?” August nods at the deer hide softly swaying on the horse’s back as it steps from one leg to another, hoof ruffling up the damp earth impatiently. 

“Nah, I don’t got enough for even a shoulder. I’m gonna make a cloak out of it.” Eliah shrugs approaching her horse, her hand running over its soft nose as it grumbles something underneath its sharp exhale. “Easy there, Kor, it’s me.” The mare turns his face to the left, the glossy right eye watching Eliah before turning back. He calms down and stops digging into the earth. August watches as she gets onto his back, grasping the reins tightly in her gloved hands. The polished silver tips of her boots slide firmly into the stirrups, giving the horse a soft nudge on the sides to commence the movement. 

“Y’know, Kor’s gotta go soon. A blind horse ain’t sustainable in these times. He’s getting old now too.” He presses a two-finger coil to his mouth, whistling into the deep before another steed approaches in a hurry. This one is a bigger animal, a hickory-colored Arabian that cost August a fortune a few years back. Eliah still wonders just how he was able to buy it since their situation hasn’t been exactly successful for a long while now. 

After their family fell apart, the siblings had to earn their keep no matter how much their father was able to make on his international distribution of the best fruit in America. Eliah always considered being a bullshit statement, since she has never seen that money in person. However, Daddy was always able to wear fancy suits, have a coach waiting at the door, and go to Saint-Denis for fancy parties to mingle with celebrities. August questioned the same, but as long as he had his freedom to sneak out to saloons in the night when he was a youngster, he never complained. Money was easy for him; he was young, reckless, but so witty that he was able to trick a few people in town to believe that he was an orphan in need of money. Sometimes, he would bring four dollars home each night, and six on a good day when the rich folk was in. 

Eliah, on the other hand, had to find odd jobs behind her father’s back when she turned fourteen. Mostly, she haunted for the lazy, fished for the desperate, and flirted with the old to steal a few dollars before things got too uncomfortable. Thus was life in Blackwater before they were forced to move by a horrid event caused by a gang that lived so quietly nearby. It cost them a home, possessions, father’s beloved horse Ukelly, and Kor’s left eye. The poor mare had to endure great pain as they fled the town without looking back. Thankfully, no one got hurt, well, physically anyway. August changed ever since, becoming a man of many faces as he used his acting talent to lie and live in fantasies of a life different from his current one. Daddy remained the same, blaming their mother for everything, himself for not being good enough, and spending long nights at saloons to make new friends just for the night. And Eliah. Eliah kept hunting small game, avoiding the public by escaping to camp out in unknown territories, and cleaning her room in their small house just outside of Strawberry, hidden in the woods from curious eyes. This wasn’t anything she wanted, but enough to let her explore the wants in her mind and places where she wished to venture when grown.

Soon, by the time she turned twenty, August taught her how to read and write since their father barely came home anymore. At first, he would spend a few days in Saint-Denis, skip their birthdays, holidays, and promised family dinners before vanishing for weeks and months. Soon, the siblings weren’t expecting him home, almost not noticing when the aging man would turn up in dirty suits and hickeys all over his large neck. They barely exchanged words before father would change and order another coach. He would sometimes leave an envelope with money on the table of their small kitchen, enough for a couple of weeks of provisions, a few outfits, and medicine that was the most expensive to budget. 

August, now turning twenty-six, found work at the station, distributing mail and helping out the local industrialists that were interested in the future. Eliah wasn’t sure what kind of future August was talking about during long spring nights, but the tales of Saint-Denis from their father have created enough images in their confused minds. August was blooming with ideas of becoming a famous actor in Saint-Denis and traveling the states, and Eliah simply wanted to see what it was like to live in luxury much bigger than she saw in Valentine the few times she visited. 

“I spoke to Bella today.” August leaned back, slowing his mare down with a firm tug on the reins. Strawberry wasn’t too far from them now, but the brother always liked taking a scenic route home to speak with his sister before they parted to tend to their business. 

“Ya mean Caroline?” Eliah sneakered, making her voice appear higher to mock the mysterious lady August is so fond of. “Oh, Bella, Bella, the queen of me sweaty dreams!” 

“Oh shut it, ya idiot. I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said I should’ve shot you.” August barked at his sister, drawing his revolver from his black leather holster and jokingly aiming it at her. Eliah smirked, mirroring her brother almost instantly. Their horses huffed, sensing the tension as they jerked their heads from side to side. There were a few seconds of silence between them as they stared at each other, their faces frozen in expectance. 

“Then do it, brother.” Eliah raised her chin higher, letting the sun embrace her face that was hidden in the shadow of her dakota-style hat. She got that from some rich guy in Valentine that tried to stare at her rear for too long at saloon she was hunting in. August laughed for a long time after she told him about the look on the man’s face when Eliah made him aware of her real age. The hat was a price for her silence and worn as a trophy ever since. 

“I won’t,” August’s revolver slid slowly back into its original place, a smile appearing on his thin lips that hid under a thin layer of hair. He just started growing out the beard that made him look like one of them celebrities daddy spoke of in his stories. Without it, he looked like a simple farm boy Eliah joked about so many times when he shaved. “I made a promise to you, peach-bomber.” 

“First to shoot, the second was right.“ Eliah grinned, her gun vanishing on her left side. “I know, just testing ya, softie.” With that she slapped the rein once, letting Kor know they were on the move again. August soon followed, watching as a caravan passed them loaded with unknown goods from Strawberry. Deliveries were popular once winter finally let go and spring demanded everyone to awaken from their hibernation. 

“Ain’t no softie, you ass,” August replied, his voice soft as the smile remained on his lips. He lifted his large hat and scratched his scalp under the dirty-blond hair. “As I was saying, spoke to Bella. She doesn’t wanna marry me.” 

“What? No!” Eliah pretended to be surprised, her eyes growing large as she gasped. “How could a woman of such class and name not marry the August Koremile the Second himself!” She began laughing after August dismissed her cruel mockery with a wide sway of his hand, silently sending his sister to all the devils in hell. “Oh, brother, I always told you, she ain’t your type! Just ‘cause you’re fucking her, doesn’t mean she loves ya. She’s rebelling, August! Re-bel-ling!” 

“Oh whatever, I thought we had something real, ya know? Maybe she could’ve helped me out with my career.” August shrugged, patting his mare on the side of his long glistening neck. He just brushed him clean last night and now proudly road him around the land even if not many were able to see the Arabian in his full glory. “I am nearing thirty, Eli, I need a real job,” August opened his arms wide, sitting on his horse like he was a burdened cross on the anima’s shoulders. “I gotta branch out, ya know?” After seeing that Eliah didn’t leave off the amusement, he growled and shoved one of his hands in his pocket while the other rested on the reins. “Fuck off.” 

“Ya can’t use an eighteen-year-old book-reading snob as a contact, August. You want to branch out, how about go visit pa at Saint-Denis?” Kor made another odd shuffle that caused Eliah to get distracted for a moment. She spoke into his ear quietly, her voice sweetening to calm the skittish partially blind fool before returning to her brother. 

“I can’t.” August sighed. “I don’t got the money-” 

“Yeah ya do! You bought Sultan with something.” Eliah nodded towards August’s mare that was cunningly looking over at the woman. There was a glow in the bastard’s eye that always let her know the animal was up to no good when her brother wasn’t around. She was convinced that there was a demon under the mare’s skin, otherwise, he wouldn’t be so good at vanishing and appearing at the precise moments when he was needed. 

“He was on sale anyways. He started with a high price and since folk ‘round here can’t afford shit, the price fell over months.” August shrugged, his fingers tangling in Sultan’s long black mane. He was a gorgeous horse and August would never exchange him for anyone else. 

“Still, I know he was over two-hundred, brother. I ain’t a fool.” 

“Oh, you still are, just a nosy one.” August grinned, winking at his sister that once again exploded the signature laughter that often left her gasping and choking for air. 

“Takes one to know one!” 

“Shut up and let’s ride home, I’ve got a ton of food to cook.” August hit his horse at the sides, causing it to speed up immediately. Eliah had a split second to react as Sultan was a fast one, and always caused old Kor a lot of catching up to do if she was too late. Thankfully today, her alertness was at its peak performance. 

“A ton?” Eliah called out as their horses began to sprint toward the known location of their home. “You leaving somewhere?” 

“Gonna take a train to Valentine,” August called out, turning his head to see his sister riding at the same parallel, well, trying at least as Kor was a few inches behind Sultan. Poor horse, he was always so competitive. “I met a fella with an odd name on the road to Valentine a few days back. Trelawny, his name was, I think? Anyway,” August paused, calling out to Sultan to slow down as he heard soft wheezing coming from Kor. Eliah tended to ignore it sometimes, hiding from August being right about her horse’s age. They slowed down, their small hut appearing in the view just beyond a few thickly scattered rows of trees and bushes. It was never attractive from a stranger's view, providing a perfect opportunity to stay hidden and undisturbed. “He was very well-spoken, had an accent about him I couldn’t quite pinpoint. Like-eh, some-type-of-a European thang? I dunno. But anyway, he’s an opportunist, he says. So I asked if he could help me with the money and told him of my bright ideas.” August smiled. “I think he kinda liked me. Offered to meet in Valentine to further discuss my career.” 

“And you trust him?” Eliah got off her horse, taking the reins to lead it to the small fence they used to hitch the transportation. “You try to seek opportunity in a spoiled brat, then you trust a stranger with an accent from God knows where.” Eliah shook her head, retrieving the deer hide from her horse and rolling it up to carry inside. “What kinda people you hang around, brother?”

“The strange kind promises more than the simple one.” August shrugged, following his sister’s lead. He stood near Sultan for a few moments longer, fiddling with his saddle to loosen it up. He cared for his horse’s comfort too much and one day Eliah expected him to forget to tighten up the leather straps and fall off. She dreamt of that day, but also prayed that August never hurt himself. 

“Am I a simple crowd then?” 

“You’re the strangest one of all.” August approached his sister, lightly hitting her shoulder with his fist. She laughed and pushed him in his side away from her but failed to distance herself the second his arm went around her shoulders, squeezing her tightly. She yelped and tried to fight knowing far too well that he was going to tickle her sides. As expected, August did just that, causing his sister to curse worse than a sailor before letting her go. “Ya gotta trust me on this one, I have a good feelin’. And the moment I get money and possible little fame, I am going to give you a good half if not more.” 

“You’d never.” Eliah laughed, coming close to her brother to hug his side as they walked towards the small hut. She knew her brother would give her a lot; he has been doing that ever since their father began to neglect their small family. “You’ll be as spoiled as your Bella!”

“Shush, ya idiot.” August snatched Eliah’s hat off, his arm extending upward so that his significant height didn’t let his sister reach it easily. Eliah groaned, jumping upward once before kicking her brother in his shin. August winced and threw the hat into the trees, causing Eliah to launch after it like a mad animal. “You and your fuckin’ child-lover hat.” 

“Hey, I fooled an adult that day as a kid! Proves that all adults are idiots!” Eliah retrieved her hat from the ground, shaking it and slapping its sides to get rid of leaves and dust that wasn’t there in the first place. She had to make a scene of her precious possession somehow. “Alright, go make your meals, maid Koremile.” Eliah saluted before earning a shove in a shoulder. 

“Ya call me that again, ya gonna starve. Maybe, you might wanna learn how to cook, Missy.” August rolled his eyes walking through the hut’s door. He snapped the buckle of his gun belt loose so that he could drag it off and hang it inside on the hook in the hallway. Eliah followed close, grinning as she took her brother’s coat and left it on the neighboring stand. 

“I can cook the basics, but not the fancy stuff you learned from that Bella girl.” 

“Yeah well, I guess she was of some use,” August smirked, looking over the kitchen. The rundown drawers and cabinets barely held onto their original green color, now seeming grayer under all the scratches and peeling paint. The familiar squeaking filled the small curve of the room, long becoming white noise to the residents of the hut. Dull plates were placed onto the beaten-up wooden table, soon followed by a few works and knives, enough to last for two. Now they had an extra pair to use leisurely as a substitute if a fork ever fell onto the ground. Father ceased to share meals with them for a month now and somehow it barely bothered the siblings anymore. They had each other, and that’s all that mattered. 

“Feet off the table.” August groaned. “You’re twenty-fuckin-fours years old, Eliah.” The brother shoved the woman’s feet off the table as he dragged some logs from the corner of the kitchen and cradled them in his arms. 

“Almost twenty-five.” Eliah cooed crossing her arms as she got up. 

“And acting like a goddamn child, Jesus. Just because you wear pants, don't mean you gotta act like a fifteen-year-old boy.” August raised his tone before kicking open the hut’s door. “C’ mon, peach-bomber, you’re gonna watch me cook.” 

“Shit I won’t! I’m not that bored.” Eliah followed her brother nonetheless, taking off her hat as she sat down on a flat log, watching her brother prepare a campfire and a stew pot he so dearly washed after every cook-out. She loved watching him cook, she did, mostly because she knew she could never make something so good by adding some herbs he would find growing in the middle of nowhere. 

August didn’t answer as he was too busy starting off his craft. It took a while to make the perfect fire, the perfect portion, and the number of spices he was able to get from Bella and her family, in secret of course. His eyes focused on the pot, a long stick poking the flames underneath to adjust it. Once it was going, August began to load up the pot with the proper ingredients. Eliah watched him as he threw a few flowers and different colored seeds a few times, not knowing what properties they had nor how did they make the stew taste just so good. 

“What’s that one?” She asked nodding toward the tiny white petals that the man rained into the pot. August smiled and leaned back onto a log of his own, pulling a long metal spoon from the hook nearby to mix all the meats so that wouldn’t be stuck to the bottom and burn up. 

“This?” He smiled, pulling a flower from his leather satchel. It was white and yellow in the middle, a blossom Eliah recognized immediately. “Chamomile.” 

“You’re using a weed as a spice? You tryna poison me, August?” Eliah scrunched her tiny freckled nose, groaning as her brother’s grin widened. She got up slightly, peeking inside of the pot, her eyes catching the darkening liquid. “I don’t know about this.” 

“Trust me. I’ve had an idea. There was a dish at Bella’s that she let me try after she snuck out after dinner. The main ingredient was chamomile. It was really weird but in a good kinda way.” He shrugged, missing the whole stew again before putting the spoon back up onto the hook. The thickening liquid dripped slowly from the edge of the spoon onto the ground, soaking into the dry grass. Eliah watched it for a moment before noticing her brother sit back, with the familiar hand in his pocket and the other reaching for to take off his hat. The sun played with his light locks that grew to appear longer than his usual clean swept-back look. “I know, I need a haircut, give me a break.” He sneered at the silent look before looking over to the basket where he held his ingredients. With a hun, August clicked his tongue and snapped his fingers at Eliah. 

“I will cut them off if you do it again.” The sister replied menacingly. 

“Yeah well, can ya do it after you go get some stuff for me in town? We’re running low.” 

“Fruit is in the backyard, August.” Eliah rose from the log, stretching her limbs.

“Yeah, the best is left in Blackwater, the alright stuff was blown up by my sister, and ah, the edible ones are in Strawberry.” August looked over his shoulder to gaze upon the trees his father used to be obsessed with. Now, the poor things were drying out with no ripe jewels to give the family. “Please?”

“ Fine. I’ll go, I love lookin’ around.” Eliah gave a smile. “Besides, I gotta deliver the hide to an old lady I know, she’s excellent with a sewing needle. She agreed to help me with the cloak.” Eliah picked up the basket from the ground, taking a small amount of money from August’s extended hand. She counted it and nodded her head. “Should be just enough. Any preference?”

“No peaches,” August smirked. “Stew should be done by your return.” 

“So only peaches, gotcha.” Eliah threw a short whistle, attracting Kor’s attention. The old horse approached her slowly, curious eye watching his owner’s every step as she loaded up the basket and got onto his back. “I’ll be back before ya know it!” 

“Yeah, you will.” August waved his hand, returning to the stew immediately as if there was something wrong with it. Eliah stood just for a moment, watching her brother dance around the pot like a burnt chicken. She smiled, her gaze following upward to the hut. It was a good life, and suddenly she enjoyed it more than Blackwater even though she has missed it so many times. With one strong jerk of the reins, Eliah was on her way to Strawberry. 

  


_ Meanwhile... _

“Hello, old friend. Had a good time, did you?”

“You gonna get me out?”

“Ain’t decided yet.” 

“Real funny.”


	2. Your Jeans Don't Fit Ya, Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hunter becomes the dumb prey.

**Chapter ii**

**Your Jeans Don't Fit Ya, Kid**

“Don’t take any offense, Miss, but you don’t strike me as the type to wear pants.” The shopkeeper peered over the thick curve of his dirty glasses. The fellow needed a new pair, but it seemed that even having a small business in a tiny town barely had any benefits. Eliah visited Strawberry quite a lot once father found a place for them to stay away from the echoing gunshots that haunted their ears. It was impossible to forget that night when through the flames of their living room, little Eliah was forced to run outside, clutching nothing but the edge of her little nightgown. Her brother next to her, whistling for his former horse Terry to come but it was long dead on the side of a blood-soaked road. Thankfully, father’s Nathaniel and Kor were hitched at a fence right next to the burning house and were able to come to them after escaping the rain of fire. That night a lot of things happened, but even the little Eliah remembered the chaos she watched while August yelled for the horses to speed up. For some reason, the disturbing scenery of screaming women and weeping children calmed her as she watched them fall to the ground, begging for mercy before seeing a trigger pull between their eyes. 

“And you don’t strike me as the type to mind my business.” Eliah smiled half-heartedly as she threw the purchased apples into the basket. There was an additional bag of grapes that the vendor graciously offered her after her remark as an apology. She said nothing but nodded her head in silent gratitude as she lifted the basket and headed for the door. However, she never made it outside as her eyes were suddenly fixed on a shelf with a few guns and ammunition. Her mind wandered toward her old revolver slumbering in her holster that she barely used for shooting. The young woman wasn’t even sure if it was safe to fire it in the horrid condition it was in. Daddy insisted to carry it just in case, but she never ran into trouble around Strawberry so it was pointless.

“Say, how much for a gun?” Eliah looked over her shoulder. “The Cattleman one.” 

“The revolver?” The shopkeeper leaned to the side of his counter, trying to see past the basket that was blocking the shelf along with the girl’s whole silhouette. “Miss, I am not sure you can afford that one, it’s-”

“Are you a sellar or an advice dealer? I asked how much this is?” Cutting the shopkeeper off immediately, Eliah sounded displeased. First, she was judged by not wearing a proper dress that was most uncomfortable to exist in. Then, the vendor mistook her for someone below his salary. It was all starting to piss her off a little bit more than it should have. This was supposed to be a pleasant fruit shopping and it turned into a bickering battle where the customer was supposed to be right, no matter the circumstances. 

“Fifty dollars, Miss.” The shopkeeper quieted down, staring downward at the red catalog, playing with the corners of the thin pages to avoid eye contact. Eliah smirked and approached the counter, throwing the basket on top of it as she searched her satchel. The vendor gasped from the loud thud of that emerged in front of him, stepping back to watch as Eliah pulled out a stack of papers that looked like money. 

“Here,” the woman slapped seventy dollars onto the table. “For the ammunition.” 

“Ammunition will only bring you to about fifty-seven ma’am.” The man was visibly disturbed, his voice breaking in tone and falling into a bare whisper. 

“Keep the change.” Eliah grinned, grabbing the fruit and approaching the shelf before throwing the ammunition boxes into it. The removed her revolver from the holster and exchanged it with the new one. “Here, a little bonus.” She threw over her shoulder and kicked the door of the shop open before exiting. There was no way she was coming back to this store ever again. She did not care if Valentine was father away, she was determined to make the ride there in back in one day even if she needed one god damn apple. 

“Fuckin’ asshole.” Eliah groaned under her breath, her eyes running over her reflection in the tinted glass of a passing building as she approached Kor. The woman grimaced as she noticed that her black shirt was getting dirty, the bloodstain from yesterday’s hunt remained visible even on the dark material. Her jeans that used to be rich blue became weathered, some spots promising to rip if she continued to wear them every single day. Her boots, however, were her second prized possession. The black riding boots were always polished, especially the silver metal tips that glowed in the sun. She hasn’t purchased any spurs yet for them, waiting to get enough money to get something more expensive. Inconveniently, now that she impulsively spent seventy dollars on a revolver just to shut the shopkeeper up, she had to reconsider what she was doing. The money wasn’t hers anyway, it belonged to many envelopes that father left on the kitchen table before vanishing into the night. August and Eliah split that money between themselves, attempting to make more over time. August knew how to utilize investments and somehow managed to make something in bigger towns, though he lost a lot more than gained from it. Eliah, on the other hand, saved every single penny and budgeted in her journal late at nights, making it possible to throw that money into the face of an opinionated jerk this very day. She didn’t regret it; she held her decision proudly above her head as she loaded the basket onto Kor. 

“Alright, boy.” She smiled, her hand running over the old horse’s neck. “Ready to go home? I sure as hell am.” She grabbed the firm edge of the saddle and pulled herself up. Suddenly, a loud bang came just a few buildings away, as if something has been crushed or exploded by a force. Kor wheezed, startled by the commotion, hopping sharply to the side and causing Eliah to lose her balance and tumble down onto her rear. The woman cursed and jumped back to her feet, grabbing her new revolver out of her holster and loading the cylinder quickly with the bullets from one of the boxes. She rotated it a couple of times, suddenly admiring her brave purchase, however, the following loud gunshots and shouts of the nearby lawmakers didn’t let her marvel over the revolver. 

There was a crowd gathering just around the corner where a hallway of silent houses led to a jail home. The cacophony was coming from there before two men, dressed heavily in the current gunslinger fashion, came running out of nowhere. One of them had long blond hair, dirty-looking face, and a scar on his chin that resembled a ‘J’. The other, a cleaner looking fellow with dark stubble, ran with a rifle on his back and a revolver grasped firmly on his back. He yelled something at the first one before a group of prison agents came chasing after them. Shots wheezed over their heads, some of the bullets flying past Eliah and causing her to duck downwards, her eyes never leaving the odd duo and the maddened law that was in pursuit. She quickly turned to Kor, gazing into his eye that was filled with wild fear. She bit her lip, knowing she shouldn’t be letting her curiosity to get the best of her, but a sudden feeling familiar to the last night in Blackwater forces her to smack Kor’s behind and send him fleeing.

“Go home! Let August know I’m okay!” Eliah yelled after it, watching the mare gallop away before realizing that the basket had the rest of her ammunition.”Fuck.” She cursed, glancing at the revolver in her hand that only held six bullets. “Let’s hope I don’t use every single one.” She whispered to herself before quickly hiding behind a large crate just outside the general store. The door suddenly swung open and the shopkeeper looked out with a rifle in his hands, his eyes finding Eliah immediately.

“What the hell are you doing out here, child!? Get inside!” He wasn’t able to convince her any further as suddenly a bullet pierced his head right between his eyebrows. His eyes rolled back, hands shaking as blood splattered from the hit before he fell backward into his shop. Eliah gasped, covering her mouth as she carefully peered over the crate, noticing the two men running past. 

“C’ mon Arthur! I’ve got unfinished business, this way.” The blond one shouted over his shoulder, his ugly mouth spread into an animalistic grin. His partner, Arthur, growled and sped up, reloading the revolver that he most likely used to kill the shopkeeper with. 

“What kind of fucking business, Micah? We’ve got to get the hell out of here!” The man protested but followed nonetheless. 

“My guns, cowpoke!” Micah laughed hauntingly, running toward a house on a small hill where the road was ending. Eliah followed, running through the alleyways of the houses, gunshots ringing in her ears as she tried her best not to lose sight of the two men. She tripped, falling into a bush that miraculously didn’t cut her with its thorned branches. She breathed heavily, holding her hat to her head as she watched from an unclear angle as Micah kicked the door and vanished into the house. Arthur stood outside, with his gun drawn as he waited for more men to come running with rifles pointed. 

“Hurry up, Micah!” He yelled keeping his voice fairly audible so that others wouldn’t hear him and come running. He whistled for his horse and soon a distant neighing echoed, approaching swiftly. 

Eliah lifted her body quietly, trying not to be detected before she heard a few loud gunshots coming from within the house Micah barged into. A blood splatter spread over the glass of one of the windows and soon the man emerged from the inside holding two guns. He waved them, grinning at his partner before their horses finally approached them. 

Micah jumped onto his horse closely followed by Arthur, yet instead of leaving the town, he chose to ride straight into the enraged patrol, letting his revolver loose. More shots filled the air like thunder amid a clear day. Arthur shouted something, but it was lost in the orchestra of deathly instruments. Eliah sprung to her knees, peeking out of the bush as she watched civilians falls right after another like dominoes. A lot of them fought back but none of their shots hit as fast and accurate as the outlaws riding on their horses. It was a sight Eliah guiltily admired and feared at the same time. She heard Arthur’s voice again, yelling for Micah to stop the madness before their horses turned around and galloped back towards Eliah’s location. The girl gasped and dove back under, praying she remained undetected. 

“Now, let’s get out of here. C’mon Arthur.” The other didn’t answer, staring blankly at Micah with rage painted across his face while bullets wheezed over their heads. Eliah heard Micah’s voice turning into a battle cry, as he sent his horse flying over a small creek right above her hideout. She winced, pressing her whole body against the ground as Arthur’s horse followed. Thankfully, none of the eight hoofs that flew over her touched her, but she knew she should've been injured. The woman pushed her soft cheek against the dry dirt, small rocks pressing into her skin and leaving dented marks. She breathed heavily, trying to grasp the situation as the town around her was in chaos. Someone yelled about a lockdown, the other inquired about their son, and the third simply wailed on the ground, clutching someone’s shoulder. 

Slowly, Eliah rose, her knees shaking from the terror that beat inside her chest, spreading all over until it reached her eyes. It turned into heavy tears rolling down her dirty cheeks. She ran her gloved hand over them, smudging the dust over her whole face before she hid the revolver in her holster, grateful that she didn’t have to use it. There were steps next to her leading to a porch of a home that was abandoned from the site of the shooting. She sat down onto the wooden planks, her eyes finally focusing on the street before her. She noticed bodies, almost an everlasting count of men and horses just laying there as if in a perfect murder painting. Just how many people did they kill? It seems the whole town suddenly went quiet, the voices dropping from a hundred to a ten. 

“Miss?” A voice rustled next to Eliah’s ear, sounding as distant as the murdering duo was by now. “Miss, are you alright?” A firm hand grasped her shoulder, awakening the woman from her sudden detachment. She hissed, her body pushing away from the presence as her eyes fixed on a young man with a rifle thrown over his shoulder. “I’m sorry ma’am, I didn’t mean to-”

“I’m fine. I think I’m gonna go home.” Eliah replied flatly, her eyes falling to the round as she suddenly didn’t know what to do. 

“Are you sure, Miss? It’s dangerous out there right now. Would you like to wait until tomorrow?” The man took a step toward the woman but froze as a barrel of a gun was pressed into his chest. 

“Back off. I am going home, partner.” Eliah hissed, her eyes darkening in a sudden rage. She was in shock but her curiosity made her irritated from the caring questions of a civilian. The man raised his palm, keeping them open for Eliah to see as he slowly backed away. Near him, a horse stood still, changing from one foot to another nervously. Eliah narrowed her eyes and gestured towards it with her revolver. “That yours?”

“Yes, ma’am. One of the few surviving ones.” The man nodded immediately, his hat sliding off of his head and falling to his feet. “Take it if you need it.” 

“I intend to.” Eliah barked, shoving her revolver into its holster and approaching the horse. It tried to step away, but with a sharp tug on its reins, it was forced to obey, looking at its owner in hopes of some kind of saving. The man watched in dismay as Eliah hit the horse’s sides and sent it running into the same direction the criminals disappeared into. She refused to look behind her, knowing that the image far worse than Blackwater was already imprinted into her mind. She forced herself to swallow a large knot in her throat, tightening her grip on the reins as she watched the ground for a sign of a trail. There was a thread of horseshoe prints messily spread all over the ground, a sign of the chased. Eliah smirked to herself, her body suddenly receiving a new wave of a high, this time becoming a thrill of a hunt instead of a flight or fight adrenaline. She slowed the horse down, watching as the trail vanished into the trees. 

“Alright, let’s play that game.” The woman whispered, hopping off the horse and slapping its behind to send it running back to where it came from. She pulled her dagger on the side, lowering down to follow the prints into the forest. “Let’s see what the hell are ya’ll about.” 

_ In the meantime, at the Koremile hut _

“Fucking hell.” August groaned as he dropped his fork onto the ground. He picked it up and retrieved a handkerchief from the inside of his coat, beginning to rub the utensil clean. He polished it for a long time, looking over the fork’s sides over and over again as if trying to make sure the age on it didn’t show as much. He was interrupted by approaching familiar gallop that signaled that his sister was finally home. He smiled, rising from his log and turning to greet the long gone Eliah.

“You’re late, peach-bomber. The stew ain’t waiting for your ass to have it hot.” August paused, staring at Kor that stood across from him, breathing raggedly as there was no sign of the rider. He blinked a few times, stepping over the log as he slowly approached the horse. Kor shook, becoming startled as he couldn’t focus with his only eye. “Shh, it’s okay boy. It’s me.” After a moment, the mare calmed down and August was able to pat his side. “Where’s Eliah?” The horse wheezed, turning its side to the man to expose the basket that was full of fruit and ammunition boxes. August reached for one, popping the lid open and making sure it was exactly what he thought it was.

“Kor.” His voice dropped into a dangerous growl that made the horse smack its dry lips in discomfort. “What the fuck happened to Eliah?” The horse didn’t produce a single sound, it only lowered its head and dug into hoof into the ground. The brother threw the ammunition box onto the ground, whistling for Sultan as he ran into the house to grab his firearm belt and a rifle. 

“Sultan! Get over here, god damn you!” He shouted as the mare chose to take his time, emerging from the woods with his nose pointed up. “Don’t you dare show me that attitude, Eliah is in trouble.” It was as if the horse understood what August was saying as he climbed onto its back. It dropped its silly act and lifted onto its hind legs before letting the man order it to run into the direction of his choosing.

\- - -

The sun was setting fast. Dragging down at the speed of racing horses in shame of witnessing something evil this afternoon. The wind began to pick up, cooling off the scorched cracked earth. Dark clouds stepped forward, like an army of conquerors walking forward with their guns pointed at the bright crescent moon on the other side. Soon, cold rain would follow, soaking everything in its way. The temperature has been tricky in the past few days, rising to a coat-shedding high and falling to a degree of expecting something to freeze immediately. 

Eliah crouched next to a rock, cursing the tiny droplets for messing with the trail she was following for a couple of hours now. She could’ve sworn that she saw Valentine in the distance lighting up with lanterns. The woman felt exhausted, the adventures of today catching up with her faster than she wished for. She sat back, taking off her hat and letting the rain wash the dirt from her face along with soaking the rest of her body. She shuddered, the wind complicating sitting next to a rock far from pleasant. She groaned, getting up and walking further into the woods she has been trailing in for quite a while. 

“I’m never going to find them.” She shut her eyes and smacked her forehead with her hand. “Why did I think this was a good idea? I have no horse to get back home and these bastards are long gone by now. Curse you!” She kicked a nearby rock that turned out to be much heavier than she expected. The woman whined as she lowered down on the ground, grasping the tip of her boot and speaking inaudibly into the wet cloth of her knee. “I’m such an idiot.” 

“Who goes there?” She froze as a rough male voice came out of nowhere. She jumped to her feet, forgetting about the silly pain altogether. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, watched as a silhouette stood a few feet away holding what seemed to be a gun in their hands. It was a large man, tall with a brown duster coat barely protecting him from the rain. She lowered her body slightly, sneaking to the side of the rocks she was just resting by to hideaway. It seemed that the question wasn’t addressed to her but rather someone in the distance as the stranger was facing his back to the woman. 

“Bill, it’s Arthur!” A familiar voice released Eliah’s tension, her eyes widening in a sudden spark. She found them! She did! The woman grinned, August will be proud when she tells him she tracked down a spot where the killers of a whole town were hiding. She knew he was going to skin her alive if she ever told him such a thing, so it was easier to lie and pretend that she simply got lost. August would never believe it, but he knew how to keep his distance as long as Eliah seemed like she was okay. 

“And where’s Micah? I thought you was gettin’ him out?” 

“He’s said he’s gonna be a hermit before making up with Dutch.” Arthur chuckled as he jumped off the horse and hitched it nearby. “I don’t want to see him right now.” 

“What happened?” Bill grumbled, coming closer to Arthur and opening a bit more room for Eliah to move. She waited, however, too interested in the conversation.

“Ask him when he’s here, Williamson.” With that, the outlaw went further into the camp serving as a signal for Eliah. 

She stepped forward, lurking around to see where she could safely step without making much noise. The rain-soaked the round well, making dead leaves and dry blades of grass impossible to hear. The thunder that sang over their heads made it much easier for Eliah to change locations as she curved around the man that was keeping watch. She pushed dangerously close, noticing a camp spread over a small patch of land. It was hard to tell how many people were there, but from the looks of it, everyone was loaded up with some time of weapon if not more. Soon, she noticed Arthur hitching his horse in the distance. He had at least two rifles strung on his back and two revolvers in their holsters. Eliah wondered if he wished to look more intimidating or used every single weapon in a fight. From what happened prior, the woman was sure he used it for the latter. 

She crouched by another boulder, grasping its smooth side that was still warm from earlier today. It soothed her swiftly beating heart that she could almost feel in her throat. Her breath was hard to control as every sound alerted her now that she was so close to the camp. From here, she was able to see quite a lot even if there was still some distance to learn some new faces. 

“Hey, Arthur.” A horse voice greeted the passing man, making him cease in his step. 

“Marston.” Arthur nodded. “How’s Abigail?” 

“Won’t let me near her and Jack, as always.” A newly discovered man replied. Eliah could see that he was dressed in black, his, what seemed to be black hair, resting on his shoulders as it was barely protected from the rain. The two spoke between each other some more but Eliah couldn’t make out the conversation completely. A new set of voices came from somewhere within the camp, a few females singing as Eliah could make out. She realized that it wasn’t just a quick hideout for the murderers she met this morning, they had more people with them. She peered over the rock again, trying to see more. Since it was raining, it was hard to spot any more people as they were most likely seeking refuge underneath their small tents. 

Another way of thunder boomed over Eliah’s head, lightning scattering over the black sky and lighting up the woods. The woman lowered down and scouted around to see if she could find a place to hide closer to the camp where she could further study what was going on with a clear quiet getaway if things went south. She stepped over some broken branches, sneaking forward while crouching as long as her legs would comfortably allow. 

“Where are ya going, little spy?” A voice far too familiar froze Eliah half-way through a step. A cold shiver ran down her spine, goosebumps covering her skin underneath the soaked fabric of her shirt. She turned her head slowly to look over her shoulder, her eyes focusing on Micah’s broad figure standing over her. The woman didn’t realize he was so close, the rain must’ve masked his approach as she was too focused on watching what was going on within the camp. 

“I uh-” Eliah couldn’t answer as a sudden sharp pain at the back of her head caused her to drop onto the ground. She could’ve sworn she saw Micah swing the back of his rifle at her before she blacked out. In the meantime, the man called out into the camp, attracting the attention of every single resident as he carried Eliah’s body into the camp.

“Hey Dutch!” Micah called, grinning from ear to ear. “Look what I found.” He threw the woman down by one of the tents that was wider than the rest. “She’s lucky Bill didn’t shoot her.” He nodded toward approaching man that was supposed to be watching the perimeter well. 

“ Micah?” Bill sounded confused for a second, swearing that he was sure that Arthur told him he wasn’t going to be back home for a while, yet the bickering overpowered his puzzlement. “I didn’t see the little bitch!” Bill snapped back, aiming his rifle at Eliah. “She’s wearing all black in the dark.” He then paused, realizing that Micah was back in camp. 

“How’d ya spot John then?” Micah laughed. “Must be the smell, ah?” 

“Shut your mouth,” Marston growled, approaching the passed out woman and lowering next to her. “Who’s she?”

“Hell, I know.” Bell shrugged his broad shoulders and kicked Eliah’s side. “She was sitting behind a rock peeping at the camp.” 

“Maybe, if you didn’t knock her out, we could’ve asked her.” Arthur approached from his side of the camp, displeased that he was disturbed by Micah himself. “What are you doing here? You told me you’re looking for a gift for Dutch and peace bullshit?”

“Is she a bounty hunter?” John inquired as he loosened the woman’s holster, pulling her revolver free and studying it. He further searched her, taking her dagger and a dull throwing knife. 

“Does she look like a fucking hunter to you, idiot?” Micah rolled his eyes, bending over to grab a handful of Eliah’s hair and pull her head up. “She looks like a child.” He then looked over at Arthur, snickering at him. “Didn’t have to look for a while.” The man drew a dagger from his sheath, gliding the blunt side of it across her neck. “There it is.”

“Mister Bell, leave the girl alone.” Dutch stepped forward through the group, slowly walking toward the girl as he still had a lit cigar in his hand. The rain extinguished it just a moment later, clearly displeasing the leader of the gang. Micah obliged, dropped Eliah’s head back down. 

“Micah, it’s good to have you back.” Dutch nodded, turning his attention to Eliah’s body. “Arthur, thank you, now, tie her up and keep her nearby,” Van der Linde ordered, turning away from the commotion. “Whatever she’s doing here, she must’ve followed someone back to camp and I fully intend to find out who’s behind it.” 

“Well, you don’t have to go far,” Arthur replied as he picked Eliah up, throwing her motionless body over his right shoulder. “She’s from Strawberry after Micah decided to kill the whole town.” His eyes gazed hatefully at the outlaw; he already scolded Micah for what he’s done, but it wasn’t enough to get through his thick head. 

“I was taking care of business, Morgan,” Micah shouted. “Stop being so sour, we had fun.” He continued talking before Arthur could question just what Micah considers fun anymore: “She probably followed us to take her revenge or something.”

“Oh, I bet she did. I sure as hell would so that I wouldn’t have to deal with any _ fun _consequences of your hypocritical actions!” The two men closed in on each other, ready to swing even if one of them held a precious hostage on his shoulder. Micah was smiling, his eyes glued to Arthur’s; both of them knew it was in their best interest not to kill each other yet. Dutch groaned and threw his hand up, too tired for the two to bicker amid the night. 

“Gentlemen, what’s done is done. Let’s wait and see.” He nodded toward Eliah. “Let us hope she kills our speculations once she’s awake. Now, get some rest.” The group slowly parted ways, Micah retreating into the woods to keep watch after chewing off Bill’s ear for being a blind fool. John walked with Arthur back to his tent, where the gunslinger tied Eliah’s feet as ordered, leaving her hands free since he knew there was nothing she could do, even defend herself. John placed her things into the satchel he also retrieved from her person before Micah could loot it. He placed it near Arthur’s table where he knew it would be safe from any curious eyes. 

They sat by Morgan’s bed, smoking as they studied Eliah on lying on the ground before them. The rain only doubled in its strength, as if warning the outlaws of something approaching. Strawberry wasn’t Arthur's favorite event of the week. They are supposed to lie low, but Micah has different ideas apparently; ideas that might cost the gang another resting spot. 

“I saw her,” Morgan said after a few long drags. “She was hiding in the bushes when all hell broke loose.” His lungs filled with a stinging smoke that soon melted into a blissful wave that enveloped his irritated mind, calming the man down. The soft vapor escaped between his lips, getting lost somewhere in the darkness. 

“Thankfully, Micah didn’t.” John sighed, showing Arthur the revolver he took from the woman. It was dirty but looked expensive. Arthur recognized it right away as it was a model he once owned himself. He smirked, knowing all too well that the girl wasn’t able to shoot it. “Loaded for one round. No more ammunition. She’s smart for not trying to shoot Micah, I’ll give her that.”

“What the hell was she thinking?” The man sighed and threw his cigarette into the nearby bushes. “Ya know, I think we found someone dumber than you, John.”

“Don’t start with me.” John groaned and rose from his seat, accompanied by Arthur’s quiet laughter. “I’ve had enough for today.” 

“Sure you did. You didn’t have to kill half a town.” Morgan smirked and moved Eliah’s body onto a bedroll he had in one of the chests nearby. It was an extra in case the one on his horse got lost, so Eliah must be feeling pretty honored having Arthur even bother to make her somewhat comfortable. “Those puppy scratches on your face must be so exhausting, Wolf Man.” 

“Shut it, Morgan. I know I’m in your debt.” John groaned, running his hand through his wet locks after removing his hat. “I’m just tired of Micah being Micah” 

“Like all of us,” Arthur sighed. “I regret busting him out.” His mind trailed back to the events of earlier today. He could’ve sworn he lost count of how many men he had to kill covering Micah as he ran for the horses. This madman is working to earn a bullet in his head if Arthur doesn’t punch his teeth in anytime sooner. 

“You did what had to be done.” 

“Dutch’s orders.” Arthur scratched a spot under his chin. The lantern over his bed reflected in his blue eyes as he studied the clothing Eliah was wearing. She didn’t look like a simple lady, especially with the pants that were a bit too big and held tightly by the belt that was suffocating her waist. She looked like she could fit right in with the Pinkertons, though they would never have a child, a woman, in their circles. Neither would O’Driscolls. “Let’s see what she’s got in the morning and hope that it’s good enough to not get her killed.” 

“Unlikely.” John shook his head. “You think Dutch will let her stay?”

“Don’t know. Hard to tell by the way our money's right now.” Arthur shrugged. “Extra mouths is a big responsibility. We already lost some family on the way here, we gotta be careful.” With that, the two men parted, returning to their beds. Arthur stayed up for a long while, sitting on his bed, and watching Eliah slumbering next to him on the ground. He studied her face; her freckles were barely visible under a sheet of dirt thanks to Micah’s efforts of showing off his catch. Her brown hair was a wet mess, making it impossible to identify if she had long or short hair. Her cheeks paled from the cold that her soaked clothing spread. Arthur reached into his chest and retrieved one of his winter coats before throwing it over the woman. There was no way he was going to let her freeze without at least knowing if she was guilty of something. He could tell she was going to hate the following morning, but the gang’s safety was a top priority no doubt. 

He wrote in his journal, eyes trailing over the woman a few times as he threw a rough sketch of her feeble look in the dim light of the nearby lantern. “Foolish woman.” He shook his head, sliding the book into his satchel before hanging it along with his hat nearby and laying back onto his back. With his eyes rested and his head lying on the pillow, he couldn’t help but think about the woman just below the level of his bed, sleeping on a camping bedroll under his coat. “God, damn it.” Morgan rose to his feet sharply, coming around Eliah so that he could pick her up without dropping the coat over her. He could feel how cold her body was as he lowered her onto his bed. Now he had to dry the sheets in the morning because of his damned kindness he refused to admit. He fixed the coat’s position, dragging over her shoulder and almost reaching her head without her feet poking out from the other end. 

“Jesus, when was I chosen as a top babysitter?” Arthur groaned as he extinguished the lantern before bending down to flip the bedroll over. The outlaw closed his eyes again, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to release tension in his chest. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that it wasn’t an accident that Eliah was lurking around their camp after their escape from Strawberry. He was convinced she followed them after he saved her life by not bringing attention to a very noticeable hideout. Micah was too consumed by his beloved guns and the hell he was raising to notice a dark hat and a pair of brown eyes peering over the small green leaves. The drifting thoughts began to slowly fade as the rain began to quieten down, its soft lullaby putting Morgan to sleep while the lightning still danced over the tops of the distant mountain range.

\- - -

_ Eliah’s journal entry: _

August is gone today, most likely spending his time with Caroline. I don’t know who taught him that Italian word, but it seems that’s all I hear him mutter in our conversations. I swear, I think he is dying from a Bella sickness since his romantic fever sees no end. He told me she has a brother in the army that is looking for a wife, hinting that I might be interested. Idiot thinks all ladies are the same and want a man in uniform. All I want is deer pelts for a cloak and long nights riding Kor under the stars. Is that too much to ask? I know the bastard ain’t gonna let me go on a blind date without him watching from a distance, but I guess that was supposed to be dad’s job. God, I hate calling him that, I keep almost forgetting about him until I have to call August by his name. Why did he call his son after himself? Creativity wasn’t coming from ma. I wonder where she is now. August said that she was kidnapped by the Blackwater bandits, most likely killed, but something doesn’t add up. No one was after us particularly that night and mom vanished after her fifth, or tenth, a trip to Saint-Denis with father. I guess I shouldn’t know these things, I am too tired of choking on my tears in my bed. Why can’t we have a normal family like folks in Valentine? Like fucking Bella and her rich from nothing family? 

\- - -

Eliah’s head felt like it was splitting in half, the center of the agony coming from somewhere at the back of her head. She knew that it was the butt of the rifle Micah held that sent her running with the horses in her dreams, but she wondered if it was necessary. She barely moved, not bothering to check her holsters as she knew the camp inhabitants most likely took all of her things. She moved slightly, groaning as her eyes slowly opened, noticing that she was hidden under someone’s heavy fur coat. It saved her from the blinding sun that was already above her head. It wasn’t warm, Eliah noticed that she was still in her damp clothes, shivering slightly. Whoever gave her the coat had more of a heart than Micah. She only wished this coat belonged to August and last night was just a nightmare. Strawberry continued to haunt her in the feverish nightmares caused by the blackout. An image of the shopkeeper's brains blowing from the back of his head replayed in the woman’s head over and over again. She regretted being rude to him even after he insulted her; partially he was right, she did look weird. 

Eliah nuzzled her stuffed dirty nose into the collar of the coat, shaking as she knew the moment the gang in the camp noticed she was awake, she would be either dragged, skinned alive, shot, or exhausted by interrogation under torture. Maybe all of the above at the same time. She tried to calm herself down, her head aching so badly it clouded her thought process. Her hands slowly lifted the coat, noticing that she was on someone’s bed under a tent with a nearby table with a few personal belongings. Below, there was a spread bedroll used as it was crinkled from movement. Suddenly, she heard footsteps; someone was approaching, Slowly she lowered the coat to make it seem like she wasn’t awake. She kept her eyes barely closed, her long lashes making it seem she was still asleep while she could comfortably see a little. 

A dark-skinned woman approached the tent, holding an envelope in her hand that she placed onto the table where a portrait stood of some woman. Near, a can of hair pomade, and a few ammunition boxes. Eliah concluded that, thankfully, it wasn’t Micah’s tend that she was resting. She already realized that the bastard who murders a town wouldn’t lend a lady his coat after knocking her out cold. 

“Mister Morgan, you’ve a letter!” The woman’s voice was as soft as silk it almost made Eliah forget that she was in a camp filled with bandits. 

“Thank you, Miss Jackson.” Arthur’s voice pierced Eliah’s ears like thunder from the night before. “Could ya check on the lady for me?” 

“Of course.” The named Miss Jackson approached the bed quietly, making Eliah shut her eyes completely. The lady lifted the coat, peering at the hostage, her eyes softening. “Poor little thing.” She whispered and looked over her shoulder. “She’s still asleep!” 

“Then wake her up!” Micah’s voice was just the one Eliah needed to hear, making her whole body shudder. “This ain’t a fucking vacation.” 

“Oh shut it, Bell, she’s a child you decided to hurt more than she needed.” A familiar voice bud in. Eliah recognized him after a few moments; he was the Marston guy from last night, speaking to Arthur about an Abigail. 

“A child that could’ve killed us all.” Micah parried, spitting onto the ground next to him.

“With six bullets, a blood-stained dagger, and a dull throwing knife that looks like it can leave a small bruise than a flesh wound? Yeah, sure, Micah,” Arthur was smirking at the outlaw, even Eliah could taste the undertone displeasure in his voice. “I haven’t realized you were so afraid.” 

“Shut your mouth, Morgan. You never know what these women got hidden under their sleeve.” 

“I tell you what.” A rough female voice came from somewhere on Eliah’s left. “Some god damn humanity.” 

“Missus Adler, glad you’re finding the confidence to speak up.” Micah laughed like some hyena, causing a few voices to start up to shut him up. It was the moment when Eliah realized she had to escape. The woman next to the tent stepped away, facing the gang as she got involved in a Micah’s hating bickering. Eliah took a deep breath and threw the heavy coat off of her body, drawing quite the attention to herself as the coat managed to fall by Miss Jackson’s feet. 

“Hey, she’s awake!” The woman shouted, the voices suddenly ceasing. Eliah knew there were a lot of eyes on her, but she had to use the perfect momentum to escape.

“Yeah, that’s right! And now I’m leaving.” Eliah shouted and hurried to get onto her feet only to realize that her ankles were tightly tied together, causing the woman to lose her balance and fell to the ground. “Fuck.” Laughter filled the air as Eliah grimaced from the increasing pain in her head and buried her face into the ground in shame. Of course, they wouldn't let her off so easily. 

“Good job, Arthur.” A tall man dressed in black and red placed his hand on Morgan’s shoulder before coming forward. His boots were the first thing Eliah could notice as she slowly lifted her body. “Now, no need for silliness, or else we’ll have to cut off your legs, Miss.” 

“Yeah, I got it.” Eliah sat back against the bed she just tried to escape from, holding the back of her head with a groan. 

“Dutch Van der Linde.” The man extended his hand forward in a greeting, watching Eliah’s expressions as if trying to spot a mere hint that she’s aware of who he is and the gang under his wing. Eliah considered the friendliness odd, but it was in her best interest to return the polite gesture. She shook his hand weakly, studying his face with widened eyes. He had a thick black mustache, a dark stubble, and a triangular match underneath his lower lip. It was a scary face, but more pleasant to look at than Micah’s. He was dressed like some rich scary businessman, but Eliah soon realized that he was most likely the leader of the pack that stood behind him. There were at least twenty of them as Eliah counted, her gaze pausing on a small boy that was peering around a woman’s skirt. She saw Marston standing by the two of them, stepping forward as if protecting them. Is that his family? Maybe that was the Abigail Arthur asked him about last night. Eliah couldn't help but wonder why wasn’t she let the man near as he was standing right there among them. 

“Eliah.” The woman replied slowly, pausing at her last name. August told her many times that their names were essential to their identity, but since the father was gone in Saint-Denis doing god knows what, they had to take percussions in case their name was tainted by trouble. She gazed into Dutch’s expectant, and impatient, eyes and smiled weakly. “Eliah Peachfield.” She could tell that a few gang members were skeptical of her last name judging by a few exchanged looks; thankfully, none of them knew that the woman created a last name from a joke. She only hoped that it was enough to fool their leader. 

“Miss Peachfield. A pleasure.” The man smiled back and let go of the woman’s hand. Elian only then noticed that their handshake was uncomfortably extended. “I am sure you understand that we are not fond of uninvited midnight guests, Miss Peachfield. My friend, Micah, here found you spying near our camp last night.” Dutch nodded toward Bell that melted into a sinister grin his hand waving at Eliah with a long shining dagger between his fingers. The woman swallowed audibly and shifted in her uncomfortable spot. She hugged her knees, not daring to touch the knot at her feet as she noticed a few men keeping their hands close to their revolvers. 

“I am sorry I was just…” She looked to the side, her eyes seeing August’s stoic face in a distance like a vision telling her what to do in her head. “My father had another drunken fit and murdered my mother. He’s already abusive by nature, but the moment liquor hits his brain, he’s an unstoppable force. I ran away with a few of his things.” A few women that stood farther away shook their heads; a few of them spoke about how men are cruel and have no right to have children by the way they act. One of the men hushed them before they could ask their questions. Arthur, however, stood still watching Eliah with an odd glow in his eyes as if he saw right through her lies. Eliah caught his gaze by a mere accident and hurried to look away. It was too heavy and suspicious, she couldn’t handle it at the moment of her best performance. August would be proud of this one, she thought, until he finds out just whom she is performing for. 

“A tragedy.” Dutch nodded his head. “I am very sorry about your loss, Miss Peachfield.” There was a pause of silence, just Eliah and Dutch watching each other. She knew exactly what he wanted her to say, or beg him in this case, and both of them were well aware that it was Eliah’s only decision. She straightened up, clearing her throat and straightening her legs out. 

“I’m not planning to go back there, Mister Van der Linde,” she made sure Dutch’s last name came off her lips like silk off a spool; she was bad at many things, charming others wasn’t one of them. “I saw your camp when I was running through the woods, and ya'll look much friendlier than my father,” her eyes shortly found Micah, she held his gaze for a moment before a smirk grazed her lips. “Even your friend, Micah, there.” Bell didn’t reply to her stare as he crossed his arms over his chest. She could tell he was now even more suspicious of her, but she knew that he mattered little in this situation. Dutch looked over his shoulder at the rest of the family, watching as some of them nodded their heads, before breaking into laughter. 

“Miss Grimshaw, can you show our newest member around? Help her settle in nice and proper.” And just like that, Eliah bought her ticker into the gang without consuming any bullets. The leader turned around, soon accompanied by a woman in a dark dress and dark hair. She approached Eliah and with one swift movement of a knife, she already had prepared prior, cut the ropes off. The woman didn’t hurry to get up as Micah began to protest once Dutch returned to his tent, but he was stopped by a mere gesture of the leader’s hand. Eliah watched before Grimshaw’s wide skirt blocked her view. She gazed up and hurried to her feet as she wasn’t too fond of the look the madam was giving her. 

“I ain’t gonna ask ya where you come from and what your daddy did to you. But you need some new clothes.” The woman looked over Eliah, studying her figure that was visible since her clothing was stuck to her. “Tilly, dear, bring me one of your dresses. Eliah needs to change before she catches a cold. Fast, now!” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Miss Jackson nodded and disappeared for a second. Eliah sniffled and smiled, still feeling weak in her knees from all the surprises she had to endure. She hissed as a new wave of pain spread over her head but she pretended like nothing was wrong.

“Thank you so much, Madam Grimshaw, I am in your debt.” Eliah laughed before breaking into a cough. She could already feel that sleeping in wet clothing took its toll; the weather being quite moody this morning didn’t help either. 

“Call me, Susan, dear.” Grimshaw’s expression softened as she took pity on the girl. “And you’re not in my debt but Arthur’s. I heard him vouching for you this morning that you were no threat.” The woman chuckled as she picked up Arthur’s coat from the ground, patting the dust off. “Take this, I don’t think he will mind. Now come with me, let’s get you changed, fed, and warmed up before I show you what work you’re gonna do.” Eliah threw the coat around her shoulders and followed silently, not sure what to think of Arthur’s sudden kindness. He was a mere stranger that could’ve shot her dead in Strawberry if she was stupid enough to show her face. Why be nice? 

“Here we are. Looks like it might be your size.” Grimshaw grabbed a red dress offered by Tilly. It was quite a gorgeous piece, but Eliah only wished that it was a pair of pants and a loose button-up. However, she only thanked the women knowing that she had no right to juggle with the kindness around her for a long while. In the safety of the closed tent, the young woman shed her wet clothing, studying her bare limbs that were almost blue. The discomfort of the rain finally left her and was substituted by a new one: a dress. Thankfully this one didn’t have that evil corset Eliah heard so much about and saw Bella wear when she and August were out riding. She could breathe at least even though it meant that she couldn’t hunt until she could go into a town and purchase something more suitable. Her hair seemed to dry, now resting just above her chest in soft waves. For some reason every time she washed it always turned out to be too curly, but it seems being beaten up by a criminal under the rain helped her hairdo. It was a horrible thought, but it brought Eliah’s mood up a little. Once she exited the tent, more women were surrounding her, their curious eyes studying her complexion. A few of them sighed, calling Eliah cuter than she appeared last night. The young woman laughed, ignoring the comments as she only wished to wash her face in the nearby barrel that was filled with fresh rainwater. Afterward, she was ready for the introductions. 

“Now, dear. This is the female part of the gang here. A stronger one, might I say.” Susan smiled pointing at the ladies as she introduced them: “We’ve got Karen, Mary-Beth, another freckled angel, and Molly,” the woman leaned in closer to Eliah, whispering to her this time. “Be careful around her, them Irish girls are a bit odd. 

“Hey!” O’Shea snapped. “I hear that.” 

“Why good, we know your hearin’s well, Miss,” Grimshaw answered sharply, shutting Molly up before the woman huffed and left the small circle to go join Dutch in his tent. “She’s a bit fragile. No idea what Dutch found in her.” Susan shook her head and continued introducing the rest. “Ya already met Tilly, and this is Miss Abigail and her little son, Jack.” 

“Howdy.” Eliah smiled at the curious boy that grinned at her and waved his hands around. Abigail whispered something to him before sending him off to run back to their tent. She greeted Eliah with a warm smile and even gave her a short but tight hug. 

“You’re safe here,” Abigail muttered after letting her go. “Them boys know how to protect the camp well.” 

“Until they mess em up and we gotta move again.” Karen laughed, playing with her golden locks that teasingly fell onto her quite exposed bosom. Grimshaw gave her a light smack on the elbow, looking sternly into her eyes.

“Knock on wood Miss Jones and pray it doesn’t happen any time soon.” Then, she turned to Eliah, changing the subject before the woman dared to question just how safe the camp was. “Lastly, Missus Adler here. We just rescued her from bandits not so long ago. She’s lost her husband, poor thing.” Grimshaw nodded at the woman that was slowly approaching the group. There was something strong in her eyes that made Eliah respect her without exchanging any words. 

“No need for pity, ma’am. I’m gonna make sure the bastard that killed my husband burns.” She nodded at Eliah. “Ya gonna kill that pops of yours for what he did to your ma?” Eliah opened her mouth to answer but Grimshaw came to her rescue before she could make up another story. 

“Missus Adler, let us not put such thoughts into Eliah’s head. At least yet. She’s in shock and needs to settle in.” Adler only huffed and spit onto the ground, kicking the dirt over with a heavy boot underneath her dress. Eliah could tell, she was not a soft lady kind, and somehow she felt like she could fit right in without looking like an oddball in pants. With that, Susan grabbed the woman’s hand and pulled her across the camp. Eliah further enveloped herself in Arthur’s coat, trying to hide away from the eyes that felt glued to her. She didn’t like how Micah looked at her particularly. It was as if he was trying to recognize something in her, perhaps a wounded prey needing to be finished. 

“Here, sit. The stew is almost ready.” Grimshaw let Eliah sit on one of the small chairs that surrounded the fire. Here, a few men sat, minding their business before Eliah joined them against her will. She felt so uncomfortable as she looked at a few of them. 

“H-hey.” She tried to smile, fully aware that a few narrowed eyes were wondering why she was clutching Arthur’s coat over her body. “It’s quite a cold today huh?” She laughed and cleared her throat awkwardly. “I’m Eliah.” 

“Miss Peachfield, was it?” One of the outlaws inquired as he sat back. He was wearing a black bowler hat with a poncho thrown over his shoulders. He had an accent playing his voice that Eliah tried to recognize and match to the one August mentioned. It didn’t sound like it was English, nor French. Perhaps Spanish? She wasn’t as educated in accents as she was in hunting gear. “Javier Escuella.” There was her answer: a foreign name that didn’t resemble the one August was mentioning. Her search continued.

“It’s a pleasure, Javier,” Eliah replied, gluing a name to a beaming face so she could remember him. She had an excellent photographic memory that allowed her to hunt and track down for a long period. No wonder how she found the gang’s camp so soon. “And you?” Eliah’s eyes switched to a different seemingly older man with silver hair neatly brushed back and a dark gaze. The man placed down a small canteen he used to drink from, rising off his seat and making his way over to Eliah to shake her hand. 

“Hosea Matthews.” His grip was firm and reassuring. “Don’t let those boys scare you, they are as tame as a domestic horse.” 

“Speak for yourself, old man.” Javier chuckled, leaning back to reach behind him and pull a guitar out from its resting place on the ground. He began to mess with the chords, making sure they were in their right frequencies, playing a few notes to confirm that his speculations were true. Hosea sat by Eliah and turned his head to speak directly to her, loud enough however, to let the other present outlaws hear what he was talking about. 

“Last time I checked, they ate dirt for dinner after getting drunk. And all it took was a little sweep under the foot.” Hosea grinned as Javier groaned, throwing his hands up in defeat. 

“One time, Hosea, one time.” 

“Once and forever, my friend.” Matthews laughed. “Unless you do something more foolish next time, maybe I’ll let this one go.” 

“Watch yourself first.” Javier gazed at the man and Eliah next to him with a playful twinkle in his eye. “You’re making us look bad in front of a lady.” Hosea looked over to giggling Eliah, whose face was mostly hidden under the edges of Arthur’s coat, and hummed. 

“Don’t worry, she already knows who’s an idiot in the company, isn’t it right, my dear?” 

“Of course! I’m lookin’ at one right now.” Eliah grinned, locking eyes with Hosea. There was a pause where no one said anything that made the woman feel like she messed up and earned a trial by fire. She was about to apologize before the men exploded in laughter and Hosea’s hand patted her back firmly. 

“I like her already. It’s good to have some humor around.” Hosea’s attention was caught by another outlaw that joined the circle, interested in how the newcomer was doing. “Speaking of humor, or the lack of, Arthur Morgan.” He gestured toward the man that was dangerously too familiar for Eliah. She froze, staring at the fire and not daring to look at him. He knew exactly why and thus used it to scare Eliah further. 

“I like your new coat.” Arthur watched as her head sunk deeper into the article of clothing. “You know, I think I have something that looks almost like that.” He narrowed his eyes at the girl, causing a few passing chuckles completely embarrass Eliah. The girl groaned under her breath and threw the coat off toward Arthur that caught it in his arms. She crossed her bare arms, feeling uncomfortable in the dress she was wearing. She felt so naked and vulnerable; if only she had her bow with her she so conveniently forgot on her saddle with Kor. Sending him away was a heroic gesture at the moment, now she only regretted and missed the old bastard even more. 

“Looks like the women took care of you. You’re gonna blend right in.” Morgan continued as he folded his coat next to him on the long tree trunk that the gang used as an improvised couch. 

“Let me borrow a horse and I’ll return wearing bigger pants than you, Arthur.” Eliah’s voice was infused with venom; she wasn’t too happy the way he spoke to her. On one hand, she understood that her first impression with the gang wasn’t too friendly, but this horrible headache didn’t let her put on a nice filter. 

“No can do.” The outlaw shrugged, accepting a bowl of stew from Grimshaw that brought Eliah the same. The smell that filled the radius around the woman made her mouth water. Her stomach suddenly growled audibly, making a few present gang members look over. She thanked Susan a hundred times before attacking the meal. A small moan escaped her chest and she sat back and savored every single bite. 

“Guess even shit will taste like a ribeye to a starving dog,” Bill remarked, stepping on the log with one foot as he crossed his arms over his knee. His comment earned a smack behind his head from Susan that was standing right behind him. 

“You’re lucky that Pearson wastes his time to feed hungry dogs like you, Williamson. Next time, you make your stew.” With that, Grimshaw was gone, followed by Bill’s silent cursing. 

“Wait-” after a short moment of indulging, Eliah finally looked over to Arthur, remembering his earlier comment. “Whadoyoumennocando?” She spoke with a mouthful of food, earning a long confused stare from Arthur. She knew her cheeks flushed but she could barely care, her stomach demanded more. She hurried to chew and swallow the portion before clearing her throat. “What I said is, what did you mean by that? No can do business.”

“Dutch said you can’t leave the camp for a week or so, gotta make sure you’re not gonna run away and let the law know where we are.” The man shrugged, eating his stew much slower that Eliah. 

“I guess that’s fair. But ya see, my birthday’s tomorrow. I was thinking if I can go to town and maybe buy myself a gift.” 

“What person buys their gifts on their birthday?” Bill inquired, stabbing a piece of some unknown meat onto the tip of his sharp knife and holding it over the fire. 

“Those that don’t have a family and get abused by their drunkard of a father, I suppose.” Eliah shrugged, shoveling a spoonful into her mouth. The lies barely swayed her, but she forgot for a second that she was supposed to be playing a victim. Arthur was the first person she made eye-contact with when she carefully looked up at the silenced group. She knew that he wasn’t buying into her sob story, but the rest wasn’t as aware or at least played a good role at seeming as such. She placed her plate into her lap and sighed, her fingers scratching her forearm. “My mother wasn’t present in my life that much even if we lived in one house, so I guess I don’t feel the loss as well as I should’ve? Father was the man I looked up to but then he was an alcoholic so there wasn’t much of a loss there either.” Jesus, she couldn’t even make voice shake as well as August could. Truly, he deserved the career he wanted. 

“I know a thing or two about drunk fathers, I get you, kid.” Javier nodded his head, seeming to kill off the tension that was holding Eliah by the neck. She smiled gratefully at him and moved onto a different topic. “I guess I will wait a week before getting me something.” 

“Unless one of us comes with you.” Karen’s soft voice caressed Eliah’s ears. She looked over her shoulder, seeing the blond lady step behind her and promptly squeezed her shoulders. “You ever been to Valentine, dearest?” 

“Like a few times but I was a kid.” Eliah smiled. “I barely remember what it looks like.” 

“There ya go! You can come with us right now and do some shopping. Get yourself a gift and hide it until tomorrow. Arthur can come with us too.” Karen winked at Eliah and looked at the man with her widened eyes. “Please, Mister Morgan?”

“I am not babysitting again, Karen. Ask Marston, he has a kid for a reason.” John heard the comment as he was passing by that forced him to join the campfire conversation right away. 

“Don’t throw me under the carriage, Arthur. I’m not doing it.” 

“Ain’t me either.” Bill stood up prepared to leave after his steak was finally cooked. Karen huffed and crossed her arms under her chest, making it push up more. 

“Nobody asked you anyway!” 

“Maybe he can come with us?” Eliah nodded toward an elderly looking gentleman sleeping on a bedroom at the nearby tent. Half of the outlaw group began to laugh loudly, nearly awakening the man slumbering on his side.

“Uncle?” Hosea rubbed his eye as if wiping away a tear caused by his tittering. “You’re most unsafe with him.”

“There’s so much truth in that.” Karen squeaked through her giggling. “He’ll let a whole jail escape from him if they offer’im a drink.”

“That lazy bastard,” John added, clearly having a lot of fun as the group searched for a perfect match for Eliah’s babysitter position. The woman sighed and got up from her seat, her face morphing into a saddened expression. 

“I suppose I’ll have to ask Micah. Who knows, maybe he will want to murder another town.” Her eyes immediately found Arthur’s; the man was most displeased with her comment and it showed. She knew that he was watching her this whole time, and decided that from this point on she won’t let him hold another victory over her. Karen gasped, covering her full lips with her delicate pale arm. 

“How do you know that.” Javier narrowed his eyes at Eliah, but the woman was ready for that question.

“I wasn’t running from my daddy for an hour. It’s been probably two days. I had to hide in Strawberry and guess what happens on the day I decide to do just that.” She smiles, her eyes trailing from the group to Micah that was sitting by a tree farther away from the main camp. His white hat slid over his head and the whole body slumped relaxed in the sun’s soft rays. He looked so innocent from here but Eliah knew what kind of evil that man was, glad that she hasn’t seen the extent of it. It was so tempting to approach and kick the man in his side hard enough to crack a rib, but that would cost her life for sure. 

Javier said nothing and Hosea just sighed, saying something about Micah being an uncontrollable animal sometimes and how Dutch lets him get away with things he really shouldn’t. John long left the campfire, not wanting to get involved with the Micah topic and too busy watching Jack running in the background with Abigail sitting on a bench nearby. He tried to join her, but the woman ignored him, saying something nasty over her shoulder before leaving the bench altogether. Karen looked at Arthur once more, giving him a puppy-eyed look before Morgan groaned loudly and got up. 

“Fine. I’ll go.” He had to force it through his teeth, defeated by Eliah’s clever blackmail.

“Ahh! Thank you, Arthur, thank you!” Karen nearly hopped around in her excitement. She enjoyed making new friends she could steal along with from snobs while dressed as the best seductress in town. 

“Don’t mention it.” Arthur was more than disappointed that he was the one that had to be the bigger man in the given situation. Nonetheless, he decided not to do it alone. “Javier, come with me. I don’t think I’ll have much to talk about with women.” With that, Arthur commenced making his way toward the horses where a wagon stood waiting to serve.

“Sure thing, amigo.” Escuella didn’t seem to think twice about the offer; he happily jumps to his feet and placed his guitar down by the bench before approaching Eliah. “Let’s go get you a gift.” 

“You are too nice.” Koremile chuckled, squeezing Javier’s arm as she looked up at him. He was taller than her but Arthur had to take the win on that one. Then again, she was shorter than most of them standing at five feet and five inches tall, almost reaching that six inches on a good day. She had her mother’s height while August was a six-foot-2 stallion taking after father. Truly unfair, but at least sitting on top of Kor made her feel like she has conquered the world. It was now when she felt that sting of missing her brother after realizing that she will not be able to see him for a week if not longer. Sending Kor back home alone with a basket surely sent the wrong message and Eliah knew that he was quite possibly on his way to Strawberry to add the wrong numbers together.

“Thanks, Arthur. Thanks to you, I’m gonna feel special.” She joked as she caught up with him, nudging the man’s side with her elbow. He looked at her, peering from the shadow cast from the edge of his hat. 

“You’re gonna feel special if I don’t put a bullet in your head at the end of the day.” His voice was scary now, nothing that Eliah heard earlier from friendly bickering with the rest of the gang. She looked down, stepping away from him as if some force tugged her by the reins like a horse. 

“I’m not gonna do anything stupid, Mister. Trust me,” She scratched the back of her head, regretting that instantly as the dulling pain scattered like lightning over the night's sky. She winced and lowered her head. “I was trying to be funny.”

“I don’t trust you. Partially why it’s a good idea for me to come and keep watch.” Arthur answered coldly, fixing his hat by the front tip. 

“And what’s the other part then?” Eliah inquired eagerly, trying to create a playful smile through the agony she was going at the moment. 

“And the other part is I ain’t afraid to shoot a pretty face.” Morgan gave her a strong push on her back, nearly causing the woman to trip over her skirt. She took a wide step forward and spun around, glaring at Arthur. 

“Hey!”

“Let’s go. We’ve got work to do.” The outlaw walked passed her, Javier following behind. He stopped by Eliah, giving her a tug on the shoulder and asking her to relax and let Arthur play around a bit. 

“He’s an ass, but he’s loyal to his family.” He gestured around. “He’ll warm up to you, don’t worry, just give him time.” With that, the girls gathered along as the men prepared the wagon, loading it up with necessities. The ladies sat in the back, mingling with each other as Javier and Arthur led the wagon. Sadie joined them as well, tired of Pearson’s nagging. She spoke to Eliah softly while the other bees buzzed amongst themselves. 

“You don’t strike me as a running type.” 

“You’d be surprised.” Eliah smiled, trying to keep herself composed. She had to try to look more terrified like a horse throwing its rider off every time there’s an unfamiliar sound. “I ran from a lot of things in my life before, it’s just another one of those times.” Sadie laughed and crossed her arms.   
“You ain’t a good liar, but I’ll pretend to believe ya.” Sadie winked her at, suddenly pulled into Tilly’s conversation about Valentine. Eliah didn’t answer as she chewed on her bottom lip. There was no way she could hold this act together longer than a week. She had to go find August and make sure he knew she was alright; maybe he could even tell her what to do. It only dawned on her now that she was a part of a gang now, and judging by her first impression of Micah and Arthur, these fellas weren’t kidding around. 

The wagon slowed down once they entered the town after a short drive, drawing Eliah’s attention to the layout of the buildings. She read the signs, spotting a few stores she put on her list to visit. She barely cared how much she was going to spend there, she collected father’s money for a few years and now she was going to let it loose. Maybe buy a rifle, a warmer jacket to protect her from the freezing rain, and provisions she might need if she does escape and has to search the whole world for August. 

Once the wagon stopped, the ladies got off, Eliah being last as she knew she was closely watched. She looked around and pointed at the General Store once Arthur exchanged a few words with women and Javier. 

“There.”

“I will come with you.” Morgan approached her, his tall figure nearly blocking the sun. 

“Why not Javier? He seems more fun than you.” 

“Miss Peachfield.” Arthur’s voice gained the heaviness to it again, making Eliah whine in defeat as she turned around and started walking toward the shop. 

“Okay, okay, cowboy.” She raised her hands into the air like a prisoner at gunpoint. “Do I need shackles on my ankles too?”

“Don’t tempt me.” The outlaw replied, waving the rest of the group goodbye before walking inside the store. The clerk greeted them with a kind smile, his eyes gliding over Eliah hungrily. It made the woman shiver in disgust but at least he wasn’t questioning her appearance. Probably because she was dressed proper this time and didn’t look like a wild hog. 

“I am looking for some things.” Eliah smiled back. “For my fiance.” That killed the clerk's mood as his eyes Arthur standing behind her. “Oh no, that’s my brother.” She laughed. “My fiance is dead and I am trying to dress the corpse nice for the funeral.” This time, the shopkeeper paled, laughing nervously as he pushed the catalog toward the woman. Morgan produced an odd muffled sound that Eliah chose to consider a snicker to boost her confidence a little. She looked over a few items and pointed at few once. 

“May I try those on? We’re the same size.” She grinned, enjoying just how baffled the storekeeper was as she nodded his head. “It’s like we were made for each other, ha-ha!”

“O-of course, madam, I will set up a private room for you right now.” He then vanished quickly behind the door in the back, letting Eliah break into a burst of quiet laughter. Arthur shook his head, stretching his limbs. 

“Dead fiance, huh?”

“My abusive father nearly killed me two days ago, let me have some stress-relieving fun, Mister Morgan.” The woman shrugged, noticing the clerk leaving the depth of his shop. He held the door open, inviting the lady inside.

“It is ready for you, Ma’am.” 

“Why thank you!” Eliah hurried to the door, feeling a presence behind her as she entered the hallway. She looked behind her, gasping as Arthur was following close by. “Are you kidding me? Go away!” 

“Dutch’s orders,” Morgan smirked. “What? You wouldn’t let your brother help pick the perfect outfit for his best friend, your fiance? Nonsense, sister.” He pushed her into the fitting room, checking inside for any back doors before stepping out and shutting the door. “I will wait out here, you do your thing.” 

“Arthur Morgan, you’re lucky I don’t have my pistol with me,” Eliah grumbled as she turned to the clothing she picked. There were a maroon button-up and dark blue jeans, similar to those she had before but in a fitting size this time. A brown duster coat that suited the weather that was gradually warming up, and low cut boots that looked comfortable for hunting. She reached for the shirt but before she could do anything with it, the door swung open and Arthur grabbed her from behind, spinning her around and pushing her back sharply against the wall. A dagger glistened in the reflected sunlight that lit the small room through a tiny window. Eliah grasped, the pain in her head she was hoping to forget suddenly doubled in a big explosion. She grabbed onto his wrist, squeezing it hard and staring into his eyes as the blade threatened to cut her neck. 

“Now, Miss Peachfield, you’re gonna tell me the truth,” Arthur growled, pressing the blade closer. Eliah was choking, he was just so much stronger than her, she could barely move. Her heart began to race, ragged breath mixing with his as their faces were too close to each other. She tried to study his face, its every little imperfection and a few signs of age, but before she could conclude anything the blade has grazed her neck. 

“Okay, I will!” She spoke in a hushed tone, knowing that it was best for her to pretend like trying on clothes was going just fine. “My real name is Eliah Koremile.” 

“Koremile?” Arthur seemed to search his head for any matching information. “I think I heard that name being mentioned at camp before.” 

“What?” Eliah’s eyes widened. They know something about her father, maybe he has a lot of money and they plan to rob them? “Did you catch the first name?” 

“I’m asking the questions here.” Morgan barked back, causing Eliah to hiss into his face. 

“And I’m expanding my fuckin’ information! Did ya catch the first name, damn you?” 

“August, I think.” Of course, that wasn’t giving Eliah any answers. Both male family members in her life are named August, there was no way she could tell which one was causing the trouble, but she knew her family was now in danger. 

“Well. It’s either my brother or father you heard of.” She tried to shift, but the dagger seemed to dig further into her skin, miraculously not splitting the flesh yet. “I have an older brother: August. He and I live by Strawberry in a hut. Pa grows fruit trees and spends a lot of time in Saint-Denis so he’s not part of the family anymore. I kinda got some money from him, but he’s such a greedy person, he spends it all on himself.” 

“Your mother?” Arthur loosened his grip, seemingly believing the story now.

“Presumably dead. August said she was kidnapped, but even I don’t know the actual truth.” Eliah could now breathe freely, but her movements were sadly still greatly restricted. “We used to live in Blackwater, but there was some gang that massacred everyone, almost like Strawberry, but worse. Our house and everything inside burned down and we had to flee.” Arthur’s eyes widened as he stared into Eliah’s. He took a step back realizing that Dutch and Micah’s wicked circus act just cost a girl everything. He cursed under his breath, sheathing his knife away. 

“Damn it.” He whispered, sitting down on a small chair right beside the window. Eliah stood for a minute, cocking her brow as she approached the man carefully. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Why did you follow us back to our camp?” He didn’t look at her this time. 

“Honestly, I was kinda thrilled by what was going on and a God is my witness, my curiosity gets the best of me.” She laughed light-heartedly. 

“Curiosity is gonna get you killed one day,” Arthur replied darkly and elevated from his seat, turning to face the door. “What do you know of the Van der Linde gang, Eliah?” That was the first time Arthur called her by her name, truly, the woman was taken aback for a moment. 

“Uh..nothing. Except that I am a part of it now.” She smiled, but the smile faded yielding to a concerned expression. “Why? Is there something I should know?” Arthur didn’t reply for a moment that felt like ages. Then, he swung the door open and stepped out, briefly throwing over his shoulder: 

“Nothing. I’m going to wait for you outside. Hurry up, the women have something to do with you.” With that, the door was shut, leaving Eliah staring at her reflection, her eyesight blurring either from the pain or some unknown knot that suddenly tightened in her throat. She discovered another secret that she knew she had to find out herself or else she would die never knowing. 

“Just what the hell is goin’ on with these folks.” She looked down at her shaking hands and then grabbed the clothing without trying it on before hurrying to the shopkeeper to pay it off.


End file.
